


Disciplinary Action

by Traxits



Series: Shades of Grey [5]
Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: M/M, One Shot, PWP, Spanking, Wordcount: 1.000-3.000, Wordcount: Over 1.000, challengefic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-14
Updated: 2010-04-14
Packaged: 2017-10-08 22:39:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/80226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Traxits/pseuds/Traxits
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After chasing Zevran across the keep, Alistair traps the Antivan in a room for some... disciplinary action.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Disciplinary Action

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theLiterator](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theLiterator/gifts).



> Written for the kink meme prompt: "Alistair spanks Zevran. Please? Maybe Alistair gets fed up with Zevran being so childish re: his emotions/emotional response, maybe Zevran asks him... IDC."

Alistair dropped Zevran unceremoniously on the bed, a frown on his face as he did. "Really, Zevran? Making me chase you out of the keep and across the yard? Whatever happened to keeping it quiet? To not rubbing the other wardens' noses in it?"

"You enjoyed it, didn't you?" Zevran stretched out happily, arching his back as he stretched and looked up over his shoulder at Alistair. "I mean, you clearly enjoyed carrying me back. You couldn't stop--" A low noise told Zevran that he hit his mark, and he couldn't stop the slow grin from spreading over his face. "Couldn't stop touching, could you?" He pulled himself up to where he was on his knees on the bed, his back to Alistair. "Your hands were certainly all over the place--"

A growl was the only warning he had, and Zevran gasped slightly as he felt Alistair's hand in between his shoulder blades, shoving him down into the bed. The position should have been humiliating, bent over the way he was, but he felt a distinctly familiar curl of heat being fanned by the feel of Alistair holding him down this way, the feel of that hand sliding up his back and into his hair. He could feel Alistair kneeling on the bed behind him, and he swallowed thickly. "Alistair?" he asked quietly, and there was a minute where he could _hear_ Alistair catching his breath.

"What, Zev?"

Zevran couldn't stop the smug grin from crossing his face, and he was suddenly glad that Alistair was holding him down face-first in the blankets. "I am really not certain what you're planning on doing to me right now, but... I am still clothed." He said it quite calmly, as though Alistair couldn't tell. The warden was still for just another second, and then Zevran stifled a moan as Alistair pulled a fistful of hair to haul Zevran back up to his knees.

"Push them down," Alistair ordered, his voice low and gravelly in Zevran's ear. The Antivan could barely suppress a shiver. His hands moved to touch the front of his trousers, to wrap a lace end around one fingertip. Alistair must have sensed what he was planning though, because he tugged sharply on the hair he still held. "Do it."

It was the growl that Zevran could hear in Alistair's words that encouraged him to do it, told him that submitting to this would be far more enjoyable than trying to struggle and get it back into a position that he knew Alistair was more comfortable with. He wanted to see how far the warden would take it. He tugged the laces open, and when Alistair leaned forward, the very tip of his tongue tracing Zevran's ear, the Antivan pushed his trousers all the way down to his knees, far as they would go in his current position. Alistair made a low noise of appreciation, his free hand easing down to touch the newly revealed skin.

Zevran drew a breath, his eyes closing as he felt Alistair's fingers gently caressing him, tracing patterns-- letters maybe?-- and sliding down to touch the backs of his thighs. He swallowed; those fingers stopped stroking for a heartbeat, and he could feel the heat from Alistair's breath over his ear. "You know I'm going to have to punish you for that. For making me chase you. You made me _carry_ you back." For once, Alistair didn't stammer when he spoke (talking dirty was not something Alistair excelled at), and Zevran couldn't hide the small smile on his face. Alistair noticed it, and he scowled before pushing Zevran back down into the bed. "Always smirking, aren't you?"

A retort was on Zevran's tongue, but at the feel of Alistair's hand smacking the back of his thigh, he gasped, the thought lost to the stinging sensation. "Alistair," his accent was thicker, even _he_ could hear that. A second, a third hit, and Zevran was trembling. The fingers in his hair tightened their grip, and the Antivan moaned, his own hands grasping for the blankets, squeezing handfuls of the thick fabric. Then the tender touch returned, dragging the pads of Alistair's fingers over the heated flesh. Zevran whimpered slightly, shocked at the force of his reaction to this. A sharp slap was his reward, making him tilt his hips slightly into it, encouraging Alistair to keep going.

They were both breathing heavily as Alistair scratched over Zevran's skin, digging the tip of his fingernails into him. Another loud smack, and Zevran shuddered, pressing himself into the bed a little more, feeling Alistair's hand loosen in his hair. He didn't know how much more he could stand, how much longer he could keep from _asking_, from _begging_. Alistair's hand slid down and out of his hair finally, tracing down his spine before disappearing. A low, growled, "Stay," from his warden, and Zevran scarcely breathed, not wanting to give Alistair _any_ reason to stop.

Weight shifted on the bed, and Zevran made a soft noise when those fingers finally returned, this time slick with oil. One, two pressed into him, deceptively gentle after causing such a flush over the Antivan, and a soft whine escaped as Zevran pressed back into the touch. Alistair withdrew his hand and smacked him again, leaning down to hiss quietly, "This is for me, not you." However, belying his own words, Alistair pressed a soft kiss just behind Zevran's ear, and the tenderness of the motion almost undid him. Zevran whimpered slightly, obediently staying as still as he could.

Pressure, then Alistair was _inside_, and by the Maker, it was intense. Alistair hadn't undressed, only pulled himself out, and Zevran moaned when the rough material of the warden's trousers brushed against his over-sensitized skin. It was too much, being stretched and filled and having that fabric rocking against him that way. Alistair's hand found his hair again, and this time, the warden pulled him up, forcing him to tilt his head back almost as far as it would go. It was _just_ on the border of too much, and it was _perfect_, being held that way while Alistair shoved into him so roughly.

Even without anything touching him _there_, Zevran wasn't going to last long. He had been pushed too far, aroused too fast at the idea of _Alistair_ doing this, talking this way. He gasped for breath, trying to hold on, trying not to--

He cried out as he felt Alistair thrust once more, as he _felt_ the warden's release inside of him, and it was more than enough to trigger his own, to leave him a boneless, shivering heap on the bed for just a moment. Alistair's hand slid down to splay over his back, and Zevran dropped his head to rest on his forearms while he _breathed_. A gentle caress over the small of his back, and finally Alistair moved, and Zevran rolled over onto his back. The warden perched on the edge of the bed, having tucked himself away, a soft blush on his face.

"Did... Was that all right?"

The _concern_ on Alistair's face made Zevran laugh, and the Antivan reached up to tug on Alistair's shirt, coaxing his lover into leaning down close enough that Zevran could steal a kiss from him. Chaste at first, and then Zevran deepened it just enough to leave the taste of Alistair on his own lips. Drawing back, he murmured softly, "You were quite nice, yes, Alistair."

A relieved smile lit Alistair's face, and the warden moved to let Zevran pull up his trousers and finish putting himself right. "Maybe," Alistair's blush deepened, "maybe next time, we can try it the other way? ... Switch positions?"

Zevran grinned as he laced up the front of his pants. "Next time," he agreed.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Trouble With Zevran](https://archiveofourown.org/works/172094) by [Moontyger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moontyger/pseuds/Moontyger)




End file.
